


"The Hard School of Danger and War"

by goldenteaset



Series: Swapping Fates [6]
Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Awkwardness, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Mana Transfer, Mind Control, One-Sided Attraction, Reality Marble mechanics (that will probably be jossed someday), Servant Swap, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-20 15:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4792307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenteaset/pseuds/goldenteaset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Rider clears his throat and holds out his hand. 'Normally, this is where we introduce ourselves, right? So: I am Iskandar, King of Conquerors, summoned in the Rider class for the Holy Grail War. Either Iskandar or Rider will do, if you wish to be formal. And you are…?'</p><p>The man slowly exhales, and looks a little calmer. 'I am Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, Professor of Spiritual Evocation at the Clock Tower and chosen Master for the Holy Grail War. Call me Lord Archibald, as is proper.'</p><p>Rider continues to hold out his hand. Kayneth doesn’t take the hint.</p><p>There is another awkward pause. Finally Rider drops his hand to his side, and tries another tack.</p><p>'…Wouldn’t ‘Professor Archibald’ make more sense?'</p><p>'Were you <i>listening</i>, you—'</p><p>A disappointed, ladylike sigh drops like a stone into the conversation. 'Kayneth, didn’t you hear? This is a King, not an unruly student. Does it matter what Rider calls you, so long as you work together?'"</p><p>Rider is summoned by Kayneth, and finds himself in a most difficult and complicated partnership.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Misunderstanding

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: lets watch Rider's patience get tested to its limits! 
> 
> As far as the actual title goes, it comes from a address made by Alexander to his troops pre-Battle of Issus, according to _Anabasis Alexandri_ by Arrian. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Fate/Zero.

Rider’s loud, window-rattling sneeze dispels the smoke that surrounds him. He lets the Grail’s information about this era wash over him—how to speak English and Japanese, what TVs, policemen, and pants are, among other things. _I seem to have found myself in a fascinating time, if nothing else. The only question is, which land to conquer first…?_

“Everything is going according to plan,” says a pleased, cultured baritone.

Rider turns his head this way and that, trying to figure out the source of the voice. The room they’re in has strange acoustics, sounding both muffled and implacable all at once. As the smoke clears, he discovers he’s been summoned in a twin hotel room. The Summoning Circle is in the middle of the cream-walled room, next to the green and white sofas. The glass coffee table has been pushed aside to allow more space, and next to that—

Rider’s gaze lands on a handsome blond-haired man, dressed very stylishly in a long blue coat and black pants that bring to mind a military uniform. _Perhaps he’s a soldier? What luck…_ When the man runs a hand through his hair, Rider curiously notes the silver crosses stitched onto his sleeves.

“I ask you: are you worthy to be my Master?”

The man smiles wryly and holds out his hand, emblazoned with red Command Seals. “These should answer your question, _Servant._ ”

Rider nods. “That’s true. But my name is not ‘Servant’.”

Silence stretches awkwardly between them. His Master’s face slowly morphs from cool to livid, his blue eyes bright with rage. _Hmm…clearly this man hasn’t had much experience with this sort of thing. Well then…_

Rider clears his throat and holds out his hand. “Normally, this is where we introduce ourselves, right? So: I am Iskandar, King of Conquerors, summoned in the Rider class for the Holy Grail War. Either Iskandar or Rider will do, if you wish to be formal. And you are…?”

The man slowly exhales, and looks a little calmer. “I am Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, Professor of Spiritual Evocation at the Clock Tower and chosen Master for the Holy Grail War. Call me Lord Archibald, as is proper.”

Rider continues to hold out his hand. Kayneth doesn’t take the hint.

There is another awkward pause. Finally Rider drops his hand to his side, and tries another tack.

“…Wouldn’t ‘Professor Archibald’ make more sense?”

“Were you _listening_ , you—”

A disappointed, ladylike sigh drops like a stone into the conversation. “Kayneth, didn’t you hear? This is a _King_ , not an unruly student. Does it matter what Rider calls you, so long as you work together?”

Rider grins at the young lady who’s walking toward them, her shoes silent on the carpeted floor. Her hair is short and red like his, but less unruly and a little damp. She appears to have just bathed, judging by the scent of vanilla wafting in Rider’s direction and the white bathrobe she’s wearing. Her brown eyes look him over curiously, and it’s she who shakes his hand. Her grip is firm, but her milk-white hand looks tiny and fragile by comparison to his.

“I’m Sola-Ui Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri,” she says, before Kayneth can introduce them. “I’m the daughter of the Head of Spiritual Evocation. Forgive my fiancé’s rudeness—on the battlefield, I’m sure we’ll win.”

 _Now_ that _is the name of a conqueror in the making._

“Your words are very inspiring, young lady! I’ll do my best to prove worthy of them.” He’s not just paying her empty flattery; the determined smile on Sola-Ui’s face could send men to the battlefield with greater purpose than Ares.

“That’s enough,” Kayneth says coldly. “It’s late, we should get some sleep. Tomorrow we can scout out Fuyuki.”

“Oh, so we’re already arrived? Excellent!” Rider heads to the window and takes in the glittering gold, red and blue lights outside. “This place is beautiful, isn’t it? Just think of all those people down there, traversing the night without fear of the dark…”

Sola-Ui joins him, though she keeps a professional distance. “In some ways, it’s not that different from London. Smaller in size, but just as bustling. And somewhere out there, other Masters are preparing to face us.”

“You have no need to fear, young lady. Your fiancé and I will protect you.”

Her smile is as cold as the North wind. “Thank you, but my fiancé isn’t the only one who can fight.”

Rider’s laughter makes the window shake. “Well, now, _that’s_ a pleasant surprise!” He senses Archibald’s annoyance and waves him over. “Why so shy, Professor? At least get a bird’s eye view before you rest!”

“I’ve already seen it. Turn to your spirit form when we retire.”

Rider hears Kayneth’s shoes land with a _thunk_ and sighs. _What odd luck to have the unrelenting grump as a Master, instead of this intriguing young lady…oh well, I have worked with worse. At the very least, Mana Transfer will be enjoyable._

He looks down at Sola-Ui’s thoughtful expression. She’s staring down at the city as though it’s a chessboard, her arms crossed against her chest. Something about her demeanor suggests she doesn’t want to be disturbed, so Rider turns to spirit form and lets her be.

When Kayneth is dressed for bed and turns off the light, Rider notes that Sola-Ui is still standing there, haloed by blue neon.

\---

The next morning, over delicious eggs florentine and hot peppermint tea, they discuss strategy. It takes awhile for Rider to get used to this foreign food, so at first he listens and chews. This winds up being a good thing.

Kayneth unfolds a map on the mahogany desk and points at the seaside park. “ _Here_ —the west side—will be our best place to begin. It’s hemmed in, perfect for an ambush and far away from any of the rabble for them to accidentally interrupt.”

Sola-Ui looks it over, leaning on the desk with her hand. “That _looks_ reasonable…but Kayneth, the Rider class works better in wider terrain. We should find a bigger place, so _we_ don’t get ambushed.”

Kayneth’s smile is clearly meant to be placating. “My dear, you underestimate me. I’ll ensure there are plenty of ‘escape hatches’. And while the Rider class works as you say, his strength and endurance will ensure both his and our safety. Observe his stats, if you don’t believe me.”

Sola-Ui looks at Rider with a measured, piercing gaze. Rider sips his tea and enjoys the tingling taste on his tongue. _I shall introduce Thais to this drink. It may not be wine, but it’s full of pleasing sensations all the same._

Sola-Ui nods in approval of Rider’s stats, but has more concerns to voice. They’re all noteworthy— _there are other,_ faster _Servants, and eventually a clash will happen; what if there’s no time to use a Command Seal, let along a Noble Phantasm?_ Rider is pleased by her forward thinking, and eagerly awaits Kayneth’s answers.

He explains—boasts, rather—that his strategies will ensure they take out the “problem Servants” first, and that he will have plenty of Mystic Codes on hand that don’t require voice activation.

“And as far as Noble Phantasms are concerned,” he concludes, “those are best saved for dire circumstances. _Which_ , naturally, we won’t have to face.”

 "…I still think we should look the site over, first.”

 “I agree,” Rider says, after savoring the last bite of salty ham. “Just _talking_ about it won’t be of use. We need to see it for ourselves before we decide! Who knows, there may be other, better locations to use. And if we just stay here until nightfall, we’ll look rather suspicious. Best to play the role of tourist to the hilt!”

Sola-Ui smiles and straightens up. “That sounds like a good idea, Rider. Let’s go.” She adjusts the red ribbon around her neck in a way that brings to mind a diplomat preparing for their first meeting.

Kayneth looks like he wants to object, but doesn’t. Instead he says “You’re to stay in spirit form, Rider—we don’t have suitable clothes for you.”

“Can you not buy some? Surely there are bazaars—”

Kayneth gives him a withering glare. “Do _not_ question me again.”

Rider notes the displeased expression Sola-Ui directs toward her fiancé, and decides to acquiesce for now.

\---

The city of Fuyuki is as fascinating at ground level as it is above. Rider looks around him in utter delight—young lovers are fumbling through courtship, parents are carefully guiding their children across streets, hands clasped tightly, and policemen are watching like hawks for any trouble. _Replace the cars with carts, the pavement with packed dirt, then add chamber pots being dumped from windows and merchants hawking their wares, and this could be many a city I conquered._ He keeps his amusement to himself for once.

He invisibly strolls alongside his Kayneth and Sola-Ui, listening to their bickering and sullen silences with mild interest. For a couple, they stand farther apart than their fellows; Sola-Ui’s arms are crossed, Kayneth’s are held loosely at his sides. Occasionally his fingers move, as though he wants to take her hand, but it’s clear he thinks himself above such “weakness”. _Ah, so this is a one-sided love…an arranged marriage, no doubt. Intriguing, that those still occur in this era._

Things become a little more interesting when they head to an antique shop. Sola-Ui subjects the shop owners to a thorough survey of their inventory; she takes particular pleasure in telling them where they’re incorrect about their wares. Kayneth makes a beeline for the jewelry section and paces back and forth like a bear in a cage.

While Rider’s curious about what exactly the two are searching for, he’s more curious about the books here. Once he’s in a shadowed area, out of sight of any other shoppers, he moves out of spirit form and begins browsing. The scent of old leather and the soft muttering of customers and workers ease him into that familiar mood. He loses himself in the nostalgic feeling of warm paper and the gentle cadence of pages turning.

Someone else begins perusing the shelves. Rider hastily prepares to vanish—until he sees that it’s Kayneth. “Have you found what you were searching for, Professor?”

“…I suppose so.” Kayneth’s grip tightens on a small paper bag. “And you?” He sounds more cold than curious.

“Oh, yes, there’s plenty of intriguing books here.” Rider holds up the one he was just reading. “For example, this translation of Plutarch’s life’s work. Look at how small it is!”

Kayneth shushes him, eyes flicking nervously back and forth. “Fool, no one’s supposed to _hear_ you!” he hisses.

“Very well,” Rider whispers as best he can. “As I was saying, look at the size of this book compared to the years of work Plutarch endured to create it. It seems almost a fool’s errand, doesn’t it? And yet, here it is, still being read and enjoyed even now—”

“—Yes, yes, very interesting,” Kayneth says, taking the book from his hands. “If I buy it for you, will you stop blathering?”

 _Never._ “Yes.”

“Very well. Return to spirit form, then.”

With that, Kayneth strides off toward the counter like a soldier. Sola-Ui joins him with her own loot, looking happier than Rider has seen her all day. The moment she goes to pay, however…

“Sola-Ui, you don’t _really_ want these things, there are plenty of other shops like this one at home. I bought you something already, look—”

“This is _my money_ , Kayneth, and I’ll use it when and how I want. And I don’t want anything from you…!”

Rider feels a headache coming on.

\---

The seaside park’s west bank is actually large enough to hold his Gordius Wheel without a problem. Whether it can hold Kayneth’s ego is another matter.

“This is an appropriate place,” Rider declares, looking around at the towering warehouses and tar-layered ground. “It may be a little _grim-looking_ for my taste, but that doesn’t matter so long as I can fight a worthy opponent.”

“Mm,” Kayneth says, shielding his eyes from the sun. He points upward. “I’ll be atop that roof there, watching the battlefield.”

Sola-Ui lets out a disgusted noise. “You’re a coward after all. You’re going to let Rider do all the hard work!”

“I will heal him when needed, and I’m going to create a Bounded Field; I’ll be perfectly busy from there!”

“Ha! For someone who wants glory on the battlefield, you’re quite determined to keep out of it. If you don’t want to risk your neck, fine, _I’ll_ do it.”

“I have no intention of risking your life, Sola-Ui! When night comes, you’ll be safe at the Hyatt—and far away from this business—as a wife should be.”

Her body trembles in rage and humiliation. “If you find me so _fragile_ ,” she spits, “then _why did you bring me here_?”

Kayneth has no answer for that. He turns on his heel and storms off, muttering an incantation under his breath. Like thread from a loom, blue crisscrossing lines begin to form around their chosen battlefield. Sparks _fizz_ through the threads from time to time, as though echoing their maker’s anger.

Rider sighs and turns to Sola-Ui, who looks ready to either burst into tears or pop a blood vessel. “…He doesn’t wish for you to come to harm,” he says as clinically as possible.

She clenches her fists.

“I realize that’s small compensation for being treated this way—”

“Rider, _come here_!” Kayneth looks just as livid as before, if not more so.

“Yes, Professor,” he says, and strides over to him. _Perhaps I can convince him, instead._

Once they’re within speaking distance, Rider pays him an honest compliment: “Your Bounded Field is quite beautiful. The weave is simple, but strong, stronger than others I’ve seen.”

Kayneth’s cheeks flush slightly with pride. “This is child’s play, I assure you…but I’m pleased you think so.”

 _That’s what I was hoping for._ Rider smiles, nods, and waits.

Kayneth begins issuing orders. “Once the Bounded Field is fully set and night falls, you are to issue a challenge—send out a pulse of mana and let any nearby Servants know where we are. Then, you’re to fight—and _kill_ —whoever takes the bait. Understood?”

Rider strokes his beard. “It would be best if we let _others_ cut the chaff first, that way we’ll have less obstacles in our way. And besides, I would rather win without fighting, wouldn’t you?”

Kayneth sniffs disdainfully. “This is a _war_ , Rider, or have you forgotten? Or are you not a conqueror after all?”

He can’t help it. He laughs, loud and long. The sound echoes harshly against the metal that surrounds them.

“It’s _you_ who misunderstands, Professor. To win, but not destroy, to conquer, but not humiliate… _that_ is the path of true conquest. To think otherwise is to make a grave error.”

Kayneth looks at him uncomprehending. Rider sighs and claps him on the shoulder, only to haul him upright again.

“If you fight by my side,” Rider says, “you will understand what I mean.”

Honey charms flies better than vinegar, and the promise of knowledge is sweet to a man like Kayneth. He clearly wants to object, but his pride and greed are too strong. With a long-suffering grumble, he agrees.

“Excellent! Continue your good work, then.”

As Rider leaves Kayneth—who is continuing his Bounded Field in better spirits than before—he winks at Sola-Ui, and chuckles at the slight flush that paints her cheeks.

“He’ll fight with me tonight,” Rider tells her. “Be prepared for two patients when we return.”

Sola-Ui nods, still looking reluctant. “I want to fight by your side, too.”

“There’s no reason you cannot swap places, is there? _That_ will surely confound the enemy!”

Her eyes alight with joy, and the sly curve of her mouth adds to her beauty. “That’s true. There’s no reason at all.”

\---

Saber is his first opponent tonight. Like any knight, she protects her lady-Master with all her strength, while her Master lends her Healing when necessary. _Now_ these _two are a formidable match!_

“I dislike fighting a little girl,” Rider says, as a burst of air from Saber’s blade misses him by an inch. “But since you seem to determined to kill me, I suppose I might as well!”

Saber smiles coldly, and wind swirls around her sword again. “This ‘little girl’ will be the last thing you see, Rider!”

“Hold on, Professor,” Rider yells as his Gordius Wheel charges toward Saber. “And keep your eyes peeled for an opening!”

He feels Kayneth slip and wraps one arm around his shoulders to steady him. The strangled “Thank you” is a pleasant surprise.

The air-burst lifts Gordius Wheel off the ground this time. Unfortunately for Saber, this is familiar terrain for Rider. The oxen race along the wind and down toward her. Their lowing mixes with the _clatter_ of the wheels and the mad _flapping_ of Rider’s mantle.

Enemies of yore fled from the sight and sound of the Gordius Wheel, Zeus’ gift to his son, and Rider laughs at the memory.

“Rider—Rider, _what are we doing?_ ” Kayneth shrieks like a teakettle.

“ _Charging to victory_!” Tears prick at Rider’s eyes as their speed increases.

Saber’s eyes widen in shock—

_Boom._

The pavement _shatters_ as they land, leaving a large crater in their wake. Electricity _zaps_ from the wheels, coating the battlefield in ozone.

Saber is more agile than expected. She moved out of the way just in time to avoid being crushed. However, there are impressive gashes on her face and arms from where shards of pavement cut her.

White light glows from her Master, and the wounds are gone. “Thank you,” she says, her tone genuine.

While Kayneth makes a noise of annoyance, Rider feels relief. _Good, this isn’t an opponent to take down easily!_

“Impressive, Rider.” Saber nods in approval. “You do your class honor.”

“You as well. But it seems you prefer more long-range attacks—where you being truthful earlier about your sword?”

Her anger is quite impressive for one so small. “You’ll rue your words.”

He laughs and urges Gordius Wheel forward.  

She zigzags toward them, a blue-silver blur. When he aims left, she moves right. He’s forced to turn his head to see her—and narrowly misses a lamppost. A wheel _shrieks_ against the metal as they pass. Miraculously, neither wheel nor spoke break.

Kayneth gasps. “Rider, above!”

Rider looks up just in time to see Saber about to jump aboard. Her fashionable battle-gown swirls around her like a tempest as she lands. Armored boots _thud_ on lacquered wood.

He doesn’t give her time to adjust. Pushing Kayneth behind him, Rider unsheathes Sword of the Kupriotes. Iron and wind-cloaked steel _clash_ together, the impact making their bodies vibrate.

They struggle for a few moments, unable to move forward or backward. He tries to grab her arm, but she’s too quick and eludes him easily. The wind from her blade whips around and against them, making him want to shield his eyes.

Saber’s sword may be longer, but this is Rider’s mount. As she moves back to strike again, he rushes forward and shoves her off Gordius Wheel.

Her hand snatches at his mantle and pulls him down.

They tumble together, gravel _crunching_ under their rolling bodies. He feels scratches open on his exposed skin and grins. Warm blood slicks his palms as he struggles to pin Saber. _This is almost nostalgic…_

From behind him, Rider can hear Kayneth and Saber’s Master having a fight of their own. He hears what sounds like wings and wishes he had a better view.

Saber slams her gauntlet into his face, the _crunch_ and sharp pain of a broken nose shocking him into loosening his grip on her. She pins him with ease. She kneels atop him, her sword raised above her head, ready to strike.

He _tries_ to tell her “It’s an honor to be killed by someone so beautiful and tough,” but he sounds like someone with the world’s worst stuffy nose. He’s impressed that she doesn’t crack a smile. _I suppose this isn’t the right time and place…_

With a heavy heart he head-butts her.

He watches warily as Saber stumbles backward. He gets to his feet. Her face is covered with his blood, and her green eyes are unfocused. Despite the pain she must feel, her hands still grip the sword’s hilt. His heart swells with pride.

“Pax?” Saber asks, her voice slurred.

“Yes.” He breathes through his mouth. “Do you deed a had?”

She chuckles. “I…wish to sit momentarily.”

He sits beside her, legs folded.

Currently at rest, they watch their Masters fight. Kayneth is wielding some kind of silvery ball that can defend and attack—currently it’s on the defensive against a large white bird made of wires. The wire bird keeps dodging the ball’s bullets and blades, performing astounding acrobatic feats and slicing through the weapons with its wings.

“You have some talent,” Kayneth says, before sneering “for a _Homunculus._ ”

Saber’s Master smiles and pulls her arm back; her bird follows suit, flapping above her head. “I wouldn’t be an Einzbern if I didn’t have _some_ skill!”

Despite her understandable pride, it’s clear that Kayneth has the better Magecraft; he can attack, defend, and has equal reach. _And_ unlike the wire-bird, his silver ball can stretch itself as wide or thin as it likes.

And it can ambush.

Just as the bird rushes forward, the silvery ball becomes a two-pronged assault of liquid. It engulfs the bird in mere moments, and no words or actions from Saber’s Master can call it back.

“Well dod, Professor,” Rider calls, clapping loudly.

Kayneth bows and chuckles. “Thank you. And young lady, thank _you_ for the honorable duel.”

The Einzbern girl doesn’t seem inclined to say anything.

Kayneth heals Rider…and proceeds to ruin the moment. “Your break is over. Kill Saber _now._ ”

“No,” he says, and holds out a hand.

After an understandable pause, Saber takes it. He helps her to her feet, only letting go of her hand when Einzbern has healed her, and her legs stop shaking.

“You…you are an honorable opponent,” she says, offering him a genuine smile. “I should like to continue our duel shortly.”

“I’d like to ask something of you, if you would allow me.”

Saber looks at him curiously. “Speak.”

“Would you like to join—”

“— _By the power of my Command Seal, I order you, Rider: kill Saber_ now.”

Rider feels his muscles tense and move of their own accord. His blade is in his hand.

“ _No_ ,” he rasps, though he knows it’s useless.

Saber moves to parry him, pain and understanding clouding her features. He’s relieved she feels no ill will toward him, even as he threatens to overwhelm her. He tries to pull back, to sheathe his blade, but the command burns like fire through his veins.

It takes him a moment to recognize what he’s feeling, as he drives Saber back toward a wall. _Helplessness._ It parches his throat and chills his heart.

Before he can finish her, someone intervenes.

“To have a fight like yours sullied is unfortunate,” a baritone voice says from behind him. “Especially since it tarnishes not only _your_ name, but your Lord’s as well.”

Rider grins at the spear’s cold tip pointing at his back. “Indeed. Well, are you going to kill me for mercy or honor?”

“I prefer to think of it as both…but I’m not about to kill a man like you from behind.”

Rider turns to look at this chatty fellow. It’s a Lancer class Heroic Spirit, no doubt about it; garbed in green and brown skintight attire (odd, but appealing) and wielding two spears, this handsome knight looks more suited to a forest than a tourney. Lancer smiles, but his light-brown eyes are tainted by sadness.

Interestingly, he keeps his eyes on Rider, even as he asks “Are you unhurt, Saber?”

“…I should be fine,” Saber says, her armor _clinking_ softly as she eases out from behind Rider. “All I need do is avoid you for the rest of the War, Rider. Forgive me. You were, however, a grand opponent.”

He sighs heavily. “The pleasure was mine.”

The command—the _curse_ —kicks in again, but Lancer moves to strike.

Fortunately, he’s faster than Saber, and Rider has to use all his strength to keep his spears at bay. Saber and Einzbern use the borrowed time well—they are out of sight by Rider’s third dodge. He feels the gold spear brush by the side of his head, shaving off a bit of his hair. He chuckles at the near miss.

“You’re nimbler than you look,” he says, gripping the offending spear. “But you lack _strength!_ ”

At “strength” he forces Lancer’s hand down; before Lancer can react Rider aims his sword at his heart. Unfortunately, he’s _still_ too slow. His blade scrapes against Lancer’s chest and shoulder, giving him a heavy gash.

Lancer’s grin is feral as he thrusts his red spear—

Rider winces as pain throbs from his shoulder. Blood coats his arm and breastplate, landing on the ground with an incessant _plip, plip._

Lancer leaps back, his eyes dark with bloodlust. “It seems,” he says with labored breath, “we’re now even. First blood is yours, Rider—well done!”

“You’re not bad yourself,” he replies, barely aware that Kayneth’s healing him. “For a spry youngster, that is.”

They share a laugh, as though they’re beholden to no Master but themselves, and it’s a needed relief.

“Rider,” Kayneth rudely interrupts. “We’re done here. You can fight Lancer another time.”

Rider gives Lancer an apologetic smile and shrug, and receives an identical expression in return. He senses that Lancer’s Master isn’t far away, and hopes that at least _that_ Mage has more kindness than the one he’s stuck with.

“I look forward to our next bout—hopefully in more honorable conditions,” Lancer calls, as Rider strides over to Gordius Wheel.

He lifts a hand in acknowledgement and climbs aboard, gripping the leather reins a little harder than necessary. As they ride back to the hotel, Kayneth swings wildly between chastising Rider for letting Lancer keep him from his task, to praising him for his “noble efforts”.

“Isn’t this the conquest you spoke of, Rider?” he asks, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Once Saber is out of the way, there will be one last obstacle to deal with, as you wanted.”

Rider doesn’t deign to reply.


	2. Moral Differences, Momentary Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rider evades peril, dreams of a memory, continues to argue and manages to have a decent conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could easily have been titled "Dialogue. Dialogue Everywhere." Not that this is a bad thing, of course--after all, last chapter had two fight scenes in a row! The contrast just strikes me as funny.
> 
> As you might've guessed, this chapter was going to come out earlier last month--but then I had to redo everything, since various events went by _way_ faster than they should have, and also Kayneth is a stubborn windbag. (Getting him to compromise is like pulling teeth...and the same applies to Sola-Ui, but to a lesser extent)
> 
> Anyway, enough complaining--onward we go!

Sola-Ui waited up for them.

Kayneth immediately begins regaling her about the battle, full of sweeping arm gestures and now familiar praises and complaints, while Rider marches over to the minibar.

He finds a suitable beer and opens it with a _crack_ and _pop._ In his frame of mind, it sounds like bones breaking. He tips his head back and downs the drink in a matter of seconds, enjoying the mildly buttery taste and the bitter alcohol. It’s not enough to get him drunk, of course, but it’s _something_ enjoyable in this hellish evening, and he’ll take it.

He looks up from his attempt at stress relief to see Sola-Ui by his side. She’s looking for a drink too; she picks out a bottle of strawberry soda and tosses Kayneth an iced coffee.

Kayneth barely pauses for breath as he catches the can and continues talking. “…And _then_ , Sola-Ui, I used _Volumen Hydrargyrum_ to ensnare Einzbern’s childish Magecraft! A bird in the hand, as they say…” He laughs at his own joke.

Sola-Ui flicks a glance up at Rider, then back at Kayneth. “If her Magecraft was ‘childish’, doesn’t that make you a playground bully?”

“What does that matter? I defeated her handily.”

She sighs and takes a long swig of her soda. “And what about you, Rider? What’s _your_ opinion on tonight’s battle?”

Rider continues to squeeze the beer can, vaguely aware that the “can” is now pancake-shaped. Once he notices his impromptu stress ball is out of commission, he chucks it into the trash with more force than necessary. The _thud_ lingers in the stale air.

There’s a long moment of silence, then: “I take it the ‘grand battle’ wasn’t as grand as Kayneth says?”

“Yes and no,” he replies, as he sheds his mantle and drapes it over the back of the desk chair. “Saber herself is a worthy opponent, the kind of Heroic Spirit that earns the title. However”—he looks at Kayneth pointedly—“the Professor, as the phrase goes, ‘jumped the gun’.”

Kayneth waves a hand disdainfully. “ _You_ were the one disobeying. I told you to kill Saber, and you refused. I reined you in, as a Master—”

“—You wasted a Command Seal, Kayneth?” Sola-Ui’s voice is eerily calm.

The temperature in the room drops to a deadly chill. Rider finds himself both pleased and concerned by this development.

Kayneth stubbornly ignores his fiancée’s undercurrent of annoyance. “What _else_ was I supposed to do, Sola-Ui? It’s clear Rider didn’t have things under control; Saber would have killed him.”

“We can’t know for certain,” Rider says, trying to keep his temper under control, “especially since _you broke a truce._ ”

“That was _your_ plan, not _mine_ , Rider.” Kayneth sneers. “That so-called truce didn’t matter anyway. We are here to fight and kill in glorious combat, after all.”

Before Rider can chew him out, Sola-Ui beats him to the punch.

“‘Glorious combat’, Kayneth? _Glorious combat_?” She points a finger dramatically at him. “There’s no glory in kicking an opponent while they’re down. There’s glory in cleverness, honorable conduct, and dying for our families’ goals. Did the Clock Tower not teach you that? Or were you too busy coasting on your genius to care?”

_Hmm…I object to ‘dying for family’. And you certainly weren’t this theatrical with your anger before._ Rider lets her go on anyway—he’ll tell her later. She’s on a roll now, so why stop her?

“And _another_ thing—”

A piercing alarm _shrieks_ without warning, and a voice issues from the ceiling: “ _All guests, please evacuate the building. This is not a drill. All guests…_ ”

“Ah,” Kayneth frowns. “It must be another Master. Possibly Einzbern again.”

Rider groans and puts his mantle back on. “Very well, let us go.” He grabs Plutarch’s book—he refuses to lose it.

“There’s no need to panic,” Kayneth says smugly. “I have this hotel specially modified for this exact occasion! You may witness Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald’s finest work…” He begins listing off the (truly talented) traps he laid, in exquisite detail. Rider finds the portals into alternate dimensions especially interesting.

Regardless…

“You can inform me—even show me—your work later,” Rider says, preparing to summon Gordius Wheel. “But I still say we should leave.”

Sola-Ui looks reluctant for a moment, then sighs. “You’re the battle commander here, Rider." She checks her pockets and nods. "I'm ready."

“Thank you.” The Sword of Kupriotes slashes through the air.

Gordius Wheel _crashes_ unceremoniously through the ceiling, covering the floor in plaster. Sola-Ui’s surprised flinch seems genuine. Her delight as she climbs aboard, on the other hand…

Kayneth stands stubbornly still. “Trust me, Sola-Ui, we’ll be fine—”

Rider strong-arms him into the chariot, ignoring his complaints as they fly out the window.

As they leave the Hyatt behind, Rider hears an ominous noise, one he can’t quite place. At Sola-Ui’s gasp, he turns his head—just in time to see the building collapse in on itself with an earth-shaking _rumble_ that reminds him of a rockslide.

As they pass over a huge red bridge, Kayneth says “…Perhaps I miscalculated. Had we waited any longer, Sola-Ui and I would have…”

“Yes.” Sola-Ui’s tone is uncharacteristically flat. There’s a rhythmic _ssh-ssh_ sound, as though she’s rubbing her arms.

“No one was hurt,” Rider assures them. “I could sense the same trace amounts of mana in the parking lot as in the hotel.”

“Oh. Good.”

It’s clear neither Kayneth nor Sola-Ui had been thinking of their fellow guests. Rider sighs and looks up at the star-decked sky. _Perhaps that’s to be expected. These_ are _scholarly nobles I’m dealing with._

He feels Sola-Ui rest her back against his; her sigh trembles through him. “This chariot is amazing, though.”

Rider grins. “How so?”

She chuckles. “Well, it doesn’t jostle us when it moves, your oxen weren’t startled at all by the explosion, and the wood…” He hears her hand glide across the finish. “It’s centuries old, and yet it looks and feels like it was carved yesterday. There’s not a scratch or splinter here.”

“Wherever the carpenter is right now, I’m sure he finds your words _very_ pleasant.”

Kayneth makes a thoughtful noise. “Speaking of that…there seems to be parts of the Gordius Wheel that can be changed out. See this slot here, Sola-Ui? It’s as big as my hand—it must be for a weapon of some kind!”

“Actually, those slots are for javelins and arrow-quivers. An excellent guess!”

“Well done, Kayneth,” Sola-Ui says, and her fiancé’s pleasure at her approval is overwhelming.

“There _are_ parts that can be changed out, though,” Rider continues, feeling a little calmer. “Unfortunately, I cannot make the Gordius Wheel smaller, anymore than I can shrink myself!”

That gets a small chuckle out of them, much to Rider’s relief. _Perhaps there’s hope yet…_

\---

After an extended debate about where to make a new base, they land and set up shop at the seaside park, where the Bounded Field is still operational. (Rider _was_ hoping for the park library to be their new home, but then again there’s no room for a kitchen…) There’s an unused store/rest house in the area, which sailors used before returning aboard their ships—at least, that’s what Kayneth _claims_ their new base is.

Rider unceremoniously drops onto the biggest bed, only now aware of just how tired he is. The cotton sheets and _creaking_ mattress feel soft as down. “Professor, you know a surprising amount about this place. Care to enlighten me as to why?”

“I researched ahead of time,” Kayneth answers with a yawn, clad only in boxers as he collapses in the middle bed.

Sola-Ui doesn’t say a word as she climbs into the bed by the window, practically dead on her feet. She has the foresight to remove her clothes, but…

Rider finds himself staring at their bodies—and not for the expected reason. Where there should have been unblemished skin, he instead sees marks of war.

Kayneth’s right arm bears the Archibald Magic Crest, as expected—but where Rider expected a simple tattoo, he sees a brass-colored, circular brand carved into pale flesh. When Kayneth moves, Rider can see the brand stretch slightly, like nerves atop flesh. _That looks…very uncomfortable._ There are other marks, too, long-healed burns on his arms and scars mainly centered at his legs.

Sola-Ui’s body is more troubling. There’s a mark similar to Kayneth’s Crest—Rider can only see half of it from beneath her white bra strap. The difference is that there _is_ no Crest, yet there clearly should be. A thick, purple scar is all she has. That the rest of her body is unblemished only makes that scar worse.

A soft _creak_ interrupts his wondering. His eyes rest on Sola-Ui, who looks at him with piercing eyes. She pulls her bra strap up toward her shoulder, her gaze daring him to look away. As he suspected, it’s shaped like a circle, the white light of the moon making it glow.

As Rider’s eyes drift closed, he wonders if Kayneth knows about it—or has seen it himself.

\---

He dreams not of old battles or old friends, but of Kayneth. This isn’t too surprising in theory, except that he suspects this to be a memory:

_Kayneth was at a garden party, and he clearly itched to leave—or at the very least, go someplace quieter. He looked to be in his early twenties, and his black suit fit him well._

_Judging by his unimpressed look at a tea set labeled “delicious” on a linen-covered table, the tea had stopped being as advertised many cups ago. He pushed his way through the mingling crowd as politely as possible, asked the hostess if he could view the library, and received an enthusiastic “Yes, of course” for his trouble._

_After receiving directions—clearly he had never been to this house before—Kayneth headed to the library with barely-hidden relief._

_As he walked through the clean, dustless halls that smelled sharply of pine, he paid cursory glances to the expensive paintings in gilded frames that decorated the blue walls. Many of them were famous works of art—mostly watercolor—but here and there Rider notes family portraits, a timeline of oil on canvas. Those were of more interest to Kayneth, as he slowed his pace to look at them; the most recent editions caught his eye, as they displayed the hostess in her youth up to the present._

_“She’s taken to dying her hair, how desperate,” he muttered. Rider is amused by his distaste—some things never change._

_Kayneth paused to look at the children’s portraits, and Rider follows suit. Rider finds the brother very interesting—he shared Sola-Ui’s red hair and brown eyes, but he had a debonair look to him even as a child. And yet, there was something sad in his eyes—the look of a child worried for the future._ That is not the way a child should be… _Rider hopes the boy is happy in the present._

_Unsurprisingly, it was the sister, Sola-Ui, who caught Kayneth’s eye._

_No matter what picture she was in, from a formal event to a family picnic (presumably painted without her as a direct model), she had the same expressionless face. There was no joy in Sola-Ui’s eyes, unlike her brother—it was as though she was in these portraits by happenstance or necessity, rather than genuine enjoyment. There were a few portraits where something resembling happiness was more evident—those had only the siblings as subjects, and featured them studying in the library. But even then, Sola-Ui’s smile was barely noticeable. It was a well-hidden secret only a select few would see._

_Kayneth headed to the library with greater purpose, obviously hoping he would find the mysterious girl there. Rider suspects this is a bad idea._

_Kayneth pushed open the oak door with a_ creak _and peered inside. He was greeted by hundreds of bookshelves, huge and full to bursting with tomes—Rider hopes they’ll be staying awhile. Kayneth’s feet were silent across the Persian carpet as he looked about curiously._

_“You shouldn’t be here,” said a girl’s voice._

_Kayneth’s head snapped around in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He could only gawk. (Rider knows this feeling well, and sympathizes.)_

_There Sola-Ui was, sporting the same red hair and brown eyes as in the portraits and present. She looked as though she had been crying, though her expression was perfectly blank. She wore a demure red dress, frills swaying about her bare feet. The fabric was marred by soot._

_Behind her was a roaring fireplace, and what appeared to be papers and journals, burnt to a crisp. A handful remained unmarred. Rider can see anatomy pictures and sketches of torn flesh among the pages._

_“Were you defiling your family’s collection?” Kayneth’s words came out sharp with authority._

_Sola-Ui’s blankness faltered. “Of course not. I was retrieving my work.”_

_“Your…oh, I see, your Magecraft research.” He smiled. “Did you trip by the fire? A common mistake—”_

_“—It_ wasn’t _a mistake. I’m not a beginner.” Now Sola-Ui’s voice carried a tinge of annoyance. “You wouldn’t understand.”_

_Kayneth held up his hands in a placating gesture. “We’re both from Mage families. That should provide_ some _inkling of understanding.”_

_There was a long pause. She looked at him the way one does a passing bird, with only the mildest interest in where it’s headed. The fire_ crackled _and_ hissed _, the faint smell of burning paper and leather coating the air. Finally, she seemed to make a decision._

_“Mother and Father said I was going to meet my husband today. They said I didn’t need my work anymore.” Her clinical voice trembled._

_Kayneth laughed. “Is that all?”_

You fool, don’t say that! _Rider wants to drag this gnat-brained idiot out into the corridor to teach him how to talk to ladies, but unfortunately that’s impossible._

_“Is that…all?”_

_Sola-Ui’s face grew very still—_

“—Rider. Rider…”

Rider opens his eyes and banishes his sleep in an instant. “Huh? What is it, Sola-Ui?”

“Nothing serious. We’re trying to make breakfast.” She’s fully dressed in the clothes she wore last night, futilely brushing dust off the fabric.

“‘Trying’? That sounds very serious to me!” He rolls out of bed and puts on his breastplate. “Show me where the kitchen is, and we’ll see what we can salvage.”

“Good. We were beginning to lose hope.” She’s trying to crack a joke, but it doesn’t quite land.

As they walk down the gloomy hallway, Rider looks at her thoughtfully. She’s walking with the same poise as always, but her attitude is slightly different than before: she’s less in-control and calm than yesterday. The attention she pays him seems less genuine, and instead mere courtesy. _Very suspicious…but then again, she’s in a different environment than before, and she was up rather late. I should wait and see before passing judgment._

“According to my Familiars, Berserker was defeated by Lancer last night at the harbor,” Sola-Ui says. “And it appears while we were escaping, Archer and Saber fought to a standstill near the outskirts of town.”

“Oh? How can you tell?”

Sola-Ui smiles placidly. “There are gashes and scorch-marks in the ground that weren’t made by humans. It appears Archer volleys weapons, instead of using a bow.” She looks at him curiously. “Any idea of which Heroic Spirit that could be?”

“Hmm…unfortunately, no.” Rider grins. “But at least Saber still lives!”

As the enter the kitchen—another gray room meant for two people of average size—Rider ducks to avoid a flour package sailing over his head and into the garbage. He considers straightening until he notes how low the ceiling is, and decides to stay crouched. (He has a sinking suspicion this will be a common occurrence.)

Kayneth doesn’t seem to know they’re here, as he continues cursing and tossing things behind him with ever-increasing fervor. Rider decides to let him know, before that package of rotting… _something_ goes somewhere it shouldn’t.

“Good morning, Professor,” he says cheerily, as Kayneth whips around to look at him with desperation. “How goes the search for food?”

“Dismally,” Kayneth replies, gesturing to a puny pile of foodstuffs on the table. “I _do_ hope you enjoy pretzel sticks in spicy chicken, butter, and”—he checks the box again, as though he can’t believe what he’s reading—“ _salad_ flavors _._ ”

Sola-Ui groans. “Isn’t there _anything_ to drink?”

Kayneth lifts up a twelve-pack of bottled green tea with a manic grin. “It’s your _favorite_ , Sola-Ui!”

Judging by her drawn-out groan, that isn’t the case. It'd be amusing if it wasn’t so disappointing. Rider resists the urge to go back to sleep. _Well, on the plus side, these ‘pretzel’ things are a new experience for me. Who knows, they may taste good!_

“Have you tried these things yet?” Rider asks, wandering over to the table. “We should eat _something_ before we forage for food.”

“Take whichever one you want,” Kayneth says dryly, leaning against the table with his arms folded.

Rider settles on the spicy chicken pretzels (it sounds less ominous than “salad”). After a little fiddling, he opens the cardboard box and pulls out the shiny-looking bag inside. Upon tearing that, he sniffs warily. Sola-Ui and Kayneth look on, equally concerned.

“Well? Does it smell…safe?” Sola-Ui ventures.

“Well…” Rider sniffs again. “If by ‘spice’ they meant ‘onion and garlic’, then the original buyer wasn’t deceived.” There are other smells too—something resembling roast chicken, and an indescribable _earthy_ scent that brings to mind meals cooked on the road. “…Actually, it’s rather appealing.”

He seats himself carefully at the head of the table, ready to leap off the black paint-chipped chair if it gives under his weight.

Sola-Ui and Kayneth sit on opposite sides of the table, the overhead light illuminating them in a grease-yellow glow. _No wonder this place was abandoned._

The pretzel, as it turns out, is more butter flavored than its smell would suggest. Still, food is food.

Now that Rider’s proved the things are edible, Sola-Ui and Kayneth follow suit. Though they complain about the taste (“too greasy”, “too hot”) they eat anyway. _They wouldn’t last a day on the road…_

“So,” Rider says, after they finish eating, “do we have money for food?”

Kayneth smirks. “We have enough money for _anything._ All I need to do is find a bank.”

“Excellent! Once you’ve accomplished that, we shall go in search of proper food and drink. Then—”

“—Then,” Kayneth interrupts, fingers pressed together, “we’ll go to the Einzbern’s mansion and have our _revenge._ ”

Sola-Ui smiles slyly. “For once, I agree with you. That they destroyed our base of operations without _attempting_ a one-on-one duel is against the Holy Grail War’s rules. The Einzberns will rue their mistake.”

Rider blinks in confusion. “…How do we know they’re the culprits? What would walking right into their land do, aside from allowing them another chance to kill you both?”

Brown and blue eyes stare back at him, uncomprehending. He sighs and tries again.

“I assure you, I understand having your honor infringed upon, and wishing to restore it. I _also_ understand revenge, and wishing for those who oppose you to suffer. However, in this case I must disagree.”

Kayneth frowns. “Why?”

_At least he’s letting me answer._ “The Einzberns clearly have powerful Magecraft at their disposal, if they could level a building in mere moments. I realize that you two also have great knowledge in this area. _But_ : until we know how they caused that attack, and if they can do it again, it’s unwise to waltz into their land. Is that clear?”

Silence. Rider thinks he finally got his point across, and inwardly sighs in relief.

Then Sola-Ui and Kayneth start laughing.

It’s not the raucous kind of belly-laughs that come from an excellent joke or ridiculous situation. It’s the sort of restrained, quiet laughter Rider heard at the garden party in Kayneth’s memory: courteous, bland and false.

“Forgive us, Rider,” Sola-Ui says, her shoulders still shaking. “It’s just…well, I suppose we should have expected that reaction. You come from a different time—a less _civilized_ time—and you never dealt with Mages very often.”

Kayneth continues the explanation. “For us, duels for the family’s honor are commonplace, expected. There are rules in place to ensure proper conduct, both for purposes of safety and honor. And the Einzberns have shamelessly flouted those rules in their…‘conduct’ last night.”

“We had those duels too, in my era,” Rider says, leaning back in his chair. “No doubt you know them from _The Iliad_.”

Sola-Ui smiles. “I’m glad you understand.”

“We had condescension in my era as well. It was as tasteless then as it is now.”

He pushes back his chair with a _screech_ , feeling petty joy at the way Sola-Ui and Kayneth wince at the sound.

“If you feel so inclined to kill yourselves for honor’s sake, I will not stop you. But I won’t be your spectator.”

Having said his piece, Rider stands and leaves the kitchen.

\---

In the past, Rider has found that a brisk walk takes some of the edge off the rage boiling in his heart. Today, his sights are set on the beach a short distance from their base. The briny scent of the sea beckons him like a half-remembered dream.

He slides off his sandals and holds one in each hand, fingers hooked around the leather straps. He _could_ rest them near the grass, like the lonely pair of brown shoes over there, but he’d worry about losing them. He wriggles his toes in the warm sand, pleased by the texture. _This feels softer than the grit of the desert. It may be pleasant for my feet, but in battle it would cause only trouble._ He flinches at the mental image of Bucephelus’ strong legs losing balance and twisting under him. _Yes, that would be…troublesome._

As Rider reaches the seashore (turns out the wet sand feels better and is easier to walk on), he finds someone else is out for a stroll. Thankfully, it’s not a civilian.

It’s a pale-skinned boy with black, shoulder-length hair, clad in a green sweater and pants, with the latter darker than the former. The legs are rolled up to his gangly knees, and his bare feet _splash_ through the lapping waves. Red Command Seals shaped like the front of a bull’s skull shine in the early morning light.

“Hello,” says Rider, raising a hand in greeting.

The boy looks toward him, his expression the wariness of someone often bullied. “Um…hello.”

“May I ask what you brings you here, boy? The water’s chilling, isn’t it?”

The boy rubs the back of his head nervously. “Er, well, I—”

“Speak up, boy!” Rider tries to soften his voice. “I assure you, there are no wrong answers here.”

The boy blinks at him in surprise, his ears flushing pink. “…Thanks.” He straightens up, his expression serious. “I was looking for shells.”

“I should clarify: _lying_ is forbidden.”

“Huh? But you said ‘no wrong answers’!”

“When they were _truthful_ , yes. Now, begin again.”

It’s clear the boy _wants_ to say _You’re not the boss of me!_ But thankfully, he’s not Kayneth and knows not to waste words. After a period of grumbling and amusing arm gestures, he finally calms down and tells the truth.

“…I was investigating the terrain. For a battle, I mean. It wasn’t _my_ idea”—he clearly wishes it was—“but it’s a good plan. Since I’m…not very strong…I need to have an advantage, right? So, if I know which part of the beach is treacherous and which isn’t, I’ll avoid any mistakes!”

The way the boy rests one hand on his hip and confidently rests the other at his temple reminds Rider of Kayneth. _Hmm…_ that’s _unnerving. Best to nip that on the bud._

Rider nods. “A good plan indeed! Let me give you a piece of advice: no matter how much a person plans, _something_ will go wrong. All you can do is hope you have the wherewithal to come up with a backup plan quickly.”

“Yeah. I still don’t think that’ll happen, though.”

“Of course, nobody wants to see their work go to waste! But you had best be ready for it, regardless.”

The boy’s upper body slumps forward with the force of his sigh. “Hey, Lancer, is Rider talking out of his ass or not?”

Lancer ripples out of Spirit Form beside his Master. He looks surprised at the question. “Lord Waver, the answer is obvious, no one can talk out of…” He pauses and cocks his head, as if hearing something. “ _Oh_ , you mean if Rider is lying! Not at all.”

The boy—Waver—nods in acceptance and straightens up. “Well, now you know who my Servant is.”

Rider chuckles. “I suspected that. And if I may hazard another guess…you wouldn’t happen to be the Professor’s student, would you?”

Waver folds his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why do you care?”

“‘Why’ indeed? Well, on a practical level, I care because I should be aware of anyone who wishes the Professor and his fiancée any ill will. And on a personal level, I care because Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald is an _atrocious_ role model.”

Waver doesn’t rise to his teacher’s defense. Instead he says “He’s the youngest Professor at the Clock Tower, _and_ he’s a famous researcher. I don’t _like_ him, but shouldn’t I try to be better than him?”

Rider looks at Lancer. “What’s your opinion on this matter?”

Lancer starts. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because you’re his Servant, and he listens to you. And I wish to see your point of view on things, since currently we aren’t fighting to the death. This is a rare respite, and we should make use of it!”

“I see.” Lancer runs a hand through his unruly hair. “…Let me think a moment.”

“Certainly!” Rider puts his sandals back on while he waits—a little seawater won’t hurt them.

“Having only encountered your Master once, I feel his battle prowess is noteworthy. He rode with you into battle, and faced Saber’s Master in an honorable bout. He has clearly planned extensively for the Holy Grail War. However…”

“Yes? There’s no need to be uncomfortable!”

Lancer chuckles wryly. “Yes, but _you_ , Rider, are not the one being scrutinized.” His brows furrow as he gathers his thoughts. “…However, your Master has little honor, as I see it. That is, he treats those lesser in social standing poorly. Lord Waver is a good example of this.”

Waver glowers at him. “It’s _nothing_ , I said! Archibald was right, I’m a weakling, and I can’t get respect—”

“Wait a moment,” Rider says, holding up a hand. “In what way did the Professor consider you ‘a weakling’?”

Waver makes an exasperated noise. “I got the stupid idea to send him my essay on bloodlines and Magecraft; he tore into it in front of the class, okay? That’s all! I should’ve expected he’d make a fool of me.”

Rider is aware that Waver could be lying, but his frustration seems genuine. He makes a note to ask Kayneth about his students and see what happens. _I almost feel jealous of Lancer—he may have a stripling for a Master, but this boy has the capacity to grow a little!_

Lancer sighs and shakes his head. “My Lord, a man of learning should treat an apprentice such as yourself with better care, since _you_ are emblematic of his teaching skills. Instead, as you just illustrated, his title of ‘Professor’ is ill-earned.”

“So…” Waver frowns and rubs his chin. “…So that means I should be _morally_ better than him.” He chuckles wryly. “Easier said than done, since _nobody’s_ morals are exactly the same.”

“Then stick to yours,” Rider says, pleased that Waver didn’t need to be metaphorically bludgeoned to get the point. “Even when times are tough. In some cases, doing things the hard way is the most rewarding!”

Lancer nods in approval. Waver doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he isn’t arguing against their words either. The cold waves continue to slide against their feet, as seagulls flap overhead.

Rider sighs and looks toward the base. “Well, I suppose I should go back. I feel better, now that I’ve chatted with you two.”

Waver grins hesitantly. “You know…it was fun talking to you too.” He looks to the side awkwardly. “Not that we’re friends, I mean! Just…oh, forget it.”

Rider feels a twinge of happiness and regret at his words. “I have half a mind to ask you if you want to join my army! I could always use fresh and seasoned blood alike.”

He’s aware that he’s likely to receive a “no” to his offer, and that Kayneth will force him to kill Lancer—and every other Heroic Spirit summoned. He doesn’t care—the chance to have more people share his dream is too good to pass up.

Lancer looks to Waver for his response.

Waver looks at Rider shyly. “…I’m not exactly soldier material. Am I?”

“I have more than soldiers in my army, I assure you. Scholars are quite welcome.”

A small smile lights up the boy’s face, and he squashes it down. “Well…I’ll think about it.”

“Very well—and don’t worry, I won’t rush you!”

Lancer nods subtly, as if to say _Good answer._ “As my Lord seems to appreciate your offer, I won’t dismiss it outright. But, as he is _alive_ , you will wait a long time to ‘recruit’ him.”

Rider nods in agreement. “And what of you? My question extends to you, too.” He rubs his hands together. “I’d be willing to discuss compensation, of course—gold? Beauties? Golden beauties?”

Lancer grimaces. “…No women.” He points to his mole. “I have a curse placed on me—any woman that sees my face will fall for me, married or not. If there are women among your ranks, I’m afraid I would…be a burden.”

“Oh, I see! Yes, that is quite troublesome…” Rider thinks for a moment then snaps his fingers. “You could try to scar that spot of yours; perhaps that could negate the curse?”

Lancer sighs forlornly. “That might work…but my love-spot is too close to my eye. What if I injured that instead?”

Rider and Waver copy him. The seagulls glide overhead and cackle at their failure.

“Ah, well. No doubt we’ll figure out _something._ There is always another option, even with a cruel curse such as yours, Lancer.” Rider extends a hand. “And I assure you, a man like you wouldn’t be a burden.”

Lancer pauses for a moment, his hand half-lifted. Then he takes Rider’s hand with a cautious smile and a firm grip.

“Thank you for your kind words, King of Conquerors.” Lancer lets go of Rider’s hand and goes to retrieve Waver’s shoes, calling over his shoulder “I suggest we return home, Lord Waver. Rider’s Master is doubtless looking for him.”

Waver nods and looks to Rider with a sad smile. “See you on the battlefield, then.”

“I wish you luck, boy,” Rider says with a grin, before teleporting back to the base with a lighter heart.


	3. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rider's relationships with Sola-Ui and Kayneth step forward, back, forward, then end altogether. But this is not a story of despair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've edited this final chapter so much the words are blurring together. Hopefully this is a good sign!

Despite their parting words, Rider hopes that Lancer and Waver _don’t_ cross his path on the battlefield. The chance of Kayneth ordering their deaths is too high a possibility. He decides to test the waters, in case Waver wasn’t telling the truth after all.

When Kayneth and Sola-Ui return from a bank and grocery run shortly after Rider leaves the beach, he asks “Professor, I want to learn more about the scholarly life in this era. What would you say your students are like?”

Kayneth places the plastic bags on the kitchen table with a _thump_ , looking pleased at the question. “I don’t teach them throughout the day, so my impressions will be biased. Does that matter to you?”

“Not really. Go on.”

“Good. Most of them are model students; they know the basics of Magecraft and are eager to learn more—and thankfully stupidity is rare. All the right questions are asked, and they respect my work and position.”

Rider frowns. “ _Is_ there such a thing as ‘wrong questions’?”

“Why, of course! Wrong questions are those _everyone_ knows the answer to. That, or there are no answers to be found. Any student who asks such things just wants to slow the lecture down or show off.”

Rider mulls Kayneth’s words over. As neither Kayneth nor Sola-Ui knows how to cook (and there are no roasting spits to be seen), the three improvise. After trial and error, they have made a pile of fried eggs atop a rice mountain. By some miracle, it’s edible.

After their meal, Rider considers his words carefully. _I offended him once already, and that lead to trouble. Perhaps if I phrase this gently, he’ll understand a little better._ It’s an oft-successful plan, and he figures it’ll work again.

Sola-Ui politely excuses herself, leaving an opening. Kayneth is still sitting at the kitchen table, nearly finished counting out what money they have left. He places the last yen bill with the others with a pleased sigh.

“Professor,” Rider says slowly “about that question-answer business…”

“Do you disagree?”

“Ha! Not in such blunt words, but—”

“—How I conduct _my_ job is none of your business, Rider. Professors in your era did things differently than ours, but that doesn’t make their methods _better._ ”

“The same goes for you,” Rider says, keeping his voice level.

Kayneth sneers. “You think you’re so clever—did _you_ ever teach?”

“No. But I was taught. And I assure you, there was no such thing as wrong or right questions with _Aristotle_.”

“This discussion is over,” Kayneth says as Sola-Ui reenters the room.

Rider remembers something and grins wickedly. “…I never _did_ finish telling you the wonders of Plutarch’s work, did I?”

“Plutarch?” Sola-Ui re-enters the room. “Who is that? What ‘great work’ did he do?”

She’s clearly trying to humor him, and Rider doesn’t care. “Excellent questions! He was a great man from humble beginnings…”

Kayneth’s howl of frustration pierces the blue sky like a spear.

\---

After a few days of attempted conversations and sullen silences, Rider charges off into battle with Sola-Ui at his side. Thanks to an announcement from the Holy Grail War’s supervisor a day earlier, all remaining Masters have a common enemy: Caster, kidnapper of innocents and an affront to Grail War tradition. (Rider cares more about the former than the latter.)

The sun sets behind their backs as the Gordius Wheel churns through the sky faster than human eyes can see. Sola-Ui stiffly gives Rider directions as she looks at a mana-tracing compass in her hand—one item she managed to save from the Hyatt explosion. She retreats into herself more and more, as time goes by: the clever streak remains, but what rapport Rider had with her has slowly been leeched away by moral and strategic differences. _It isn’t an_ unexpected _development, but a frustrating one nonetheless._

“The signal’s pointing to the sewers,” Sola-Ui says, her brows furrowed in distaste. “A fitting hideout for a monster.”

“Yes. Unfortunately, Caster and his Master know the terrain better than you or I. We need to be cautious.”

She doesn’t say anything, but her discontent is plain on her face. The compass’ needle shivers.

“That reminds me, young lady—what Magecraft do you specialize in, anyway?”

“Healing Magecraft.” She pointedly stares off to the side. “Kayneth is the real master of the two of us.”

“How so?”

“He’s a natural, a genius with his parents’ blessing to pursue his studies. I had to work at it every day for hours, and even then I only know the basics.” She laughs hollowly. “And since my parents refused to let me continue my studies once I was engaged, Healing is all I have left in the end.”

“There is nothing wrong with hard work, nor with Healing.” Rider stares at the red-tinted clouds. “Many people wish they could fix any injury or illness in front of them.”

“…I suppose that’s true. And I discovered another technique to use with that kind of Magecraft when I was younger; perhaps I’ll be able to show you.”

Sola-Ui’s cold words send a shiver down Rider’s neck.

\---

When they arrive at the sewers, Rider senses Caster’s presence like a deluge of rotting fish. He decides to ride the Gordius Wheel into the tunnel’s gaping black maw, suspecting he’ll need it. Sola-Ui’s face twists in disgust again.

“Take this, young lady,” he says, grabbing a wooden spear with a pointed bronze tip out of a weapons compartment and handing it to her.

She takes it and tests the balance in her hands. “This is small and light enough for me to carry…thank you.”

“Good.” He lifts the reins. “Shall we go?”

Sola-Ui nods, and they enter.

The _clop-clop-clop_ of the oxen’s hooves rebound on the concrete walls around them. The further in they go, the more claustrophobic Rider feels. It’s not _fear_ , exactly; more the urge to blast a hole into the walls or ceiling so that light and fresh air can enter this dismal place. _Who would chose a foul-smelling, dark labyrinth such as this for their base? Even a kidnapper needs to see what he’s doing!_

Another smell seeps into his nostrils, and he understands: the smell of sewage hides the unmistakable sickly-sweet odor of death. His stomach roils as human remains bob in the bile-green water.

He quickly shields Sola-Ui’s eyes with one hand. “You needn’t see this.”

“…Thank you. The smell is more than enough.”

Wet slime _spatters_ on Rider’s head. He looks up warily and sees two indescribable _things_ perched atop the sewer pipes. The things see him too. They bear their needle teeth as they drop, tentacles flailing.

They’re fast. Rider’s faster. He draws his sword and cleaves them in half. He watches in satisfaction as they sink to the water’s depths.

Sola-Ui lets out a choked cry and points up.

Rider looks up just in time to cover his ears—there was one more creature left, and its piercing _screech_ for backup fills the stinking air. Heart-stopping fear lances through Rider’s chest at the sound; only the thought of his army keeps him from succumbing to it.

Before Rider can attack the thing, it scuttles away—it’s off to alert Caster. “We should follow it,” he says.

“I…yes.” Sola-Ui is pale and shuddering, but the look in her eyes is as determined as before.

They follow the creature’s slime trail through the seemingly endless network. They encounter more of its brethren, but Rider’s oxen are perilous beasts; they trample the fear-monsters as though they were insects. Sola-Ui looks noticeably better at the sight.

As Rider hoped, this attracts Caster’s Master…who doesn’t look as expected. _Though he_ does _look fashionable—that purple coat is spectacular. What a pity the sewage will stain it…_

“Hey there!” says the redheaded boy, waving a long tanned arm excitedly. “We weren’t expecting visitors. But you’ve got a sweet ride, so I guess that’s okay!”

 _If his looks are any indication, he’s old enough to be an eromenos. How unexpected._ The boy is fair of face and body, but his black eyes are lightless and unpleasant. A silver bracelet jangles from his wrist, matching the two small earrings on one ear.

He waltzes up to the Gordius Wheel, oohing and aahing over the oxen, the wheels, the cart…and Sola-Ui. A pink flush coats his cheeks.

“You’ve got _great_ taste in clothes, Miss,” the boy says, stepping back a pace and miming a camera with his index fingers and thumbs. “Y’know, I think I’ve seen you in a magazine somewhere before! _CanCam_? _Lemon People?_ _Classy_?”

Sola-Ui shakes her head to all of them, though the last one makes her smile coolly. “I’m afraid not, though I’m flattered you think so. I’m a foreigner here.”

The boy looks genuinely disappointed. “Aww, really? That’s a shame. You _should_ be a model.” His disappointment vanishes in a snap of his fingers. “You speak Japanese very well. What’s your name?”

“Sola-Ui,” she says automatically. Her teeth _click_ sharply as she stops herself from telling anything more.

“A Western name, huh. S-Sola…Sola-Ui?” The boy seems to taste the syllables on his tongue then lets out a delighted noise, hugging himself. “Ah, it’s so cute! A name like Sola-Ui is just _too cute_ , y’know? It sounds like the name of a maiden. Or a princess!”

“That’s… _sweet_ of you…” Rider has never seen a lady more uncomfortable in his life.

“My name’s Ryuunosuke Uryu.” Uryu bows fluidly and holds out his bracelet-clad hand. “Nice to meet you, Sola-Ui!”

Rider notes that something’s… _odd_ about Uryu’s bracelet. A soft, purple light emits from it—there’s a pleasant feeling that accompanies it, a hint of warmth in a cold place. He watches Sola-Ui notice it too, her posture shifting to something a little more welcoming.

Rider hears Uryu saying: “Get off the cart and come with me. We’re having an art party, and there’s food and games and all sorts of stuff!”

Rider strokes his beard. “Hmm…as tempting as that is, I’ll have to pass.”

“Aww, c’mon, don’t be shy! We’ve got enough food to fill up a big guy like you.” Uryu squints. “Maybe even bigger!”

His words are a little more appealing this time. “What kind of food?”

“Sushi, pork cutlets, and instant noodles—that last thing may not look like much at first, but it’s really good! Doesn’t that make you hungry?”

Rider frowns. “Not particularly.” He squints at the bracelet again. “Ah, that’s some sort of enchanting device. Young lady, can you see…?”

He turns to look at Sola-Ui and feels his heart lurch. Her eyes are dull and glassy, but her body’s trembling and sweat’s trickling down her neck. She’s struggling to fight the enchantment.

“Come down, princess,” Uryu croons, and like a wind-up toy Sola-Ui obeys. “Good girl.”

Uryu drapes a possessive arm over Sola-Ui’s shoulder, and Rider’s blood boils. Sola-Ui’s body stops shaking, and Rider feels a tingle of suspicion. 

“Hey Princess, why don’t we let _my_ big guy and your _really_ big guy fight while I make you a model? Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“It _would_ , my dear Ryuunosuke!” screeches Caster, swooping onto the scene. By contrast, he looks _exactly_ as Rider imagined, pale, bug-eyed and ragged as a raven.

The battle begins. Caster summons more of his fear-monsters, and Rider fights them off as best he can. He tries to keep one eye on Sola-Ui, but that’s impossible. He focuses on hacking and trampling his alien foes as quickly as he can. Caster crows and rambles in mad gibberish, his voice like nails on stone.

“You’re aware I can't understand you, right?” Rider yells over the din.

Caster puts a clawed hand to his ear. “ _What?_ ”

Rider’s skull pounds like a discordant drum. Slime and blood coat the oxen and Gordius Wheel, which only enrages him further.

As Caster summons another pack of fear-monsters, Rider realizes there are too many for him alone. His arms ache with creeping exhaustion. _I was hoping not to waste their time on this madman…but I must._

With a sigh, Rider summons his Ionian Hetairoi.

The area changes from dark tunnel to sun-drenched desert, with a cool, stern wind blowing at his back. Behind him, he can hear his army marching, cheering at his return. He doesn’t dare look back at Sola-Ui and Uryu, not when the fear-monsters are acclimating to their surroundings. Even if he wanted to, the Hetairoi’s numbers block his view.

“This lunatic and his foul army stand before us,” he cries, his voice carrying across the sands. “They have murdered innocents for the pure joy it brings. _Will we let them continue?_ ”

“ _No,_ ” bellows his army, and they charge.

The desert shudders under the weight of their feet and hooves. Even the oxen have renewed vigor—this is familiar territory. As Rider yells his battle cry along with hundreds of others, it almost feels like he’s left the Grail War behind.

At first, Caster looks smug. His face soon changes once a storm of arrows and spears pierce his monsters’ flesh. Swords hack through tentacles. Shields shatter teeth. The monsters howl. The wind howls louder.

Rider’s friends look upon pure terror and laugh in its face.   

“As expected, you did well,” Rider says to them, as Caster stands stunned and alone. “Feast and make merry, for victory is here!”

As the Hetairoi chant their battle cry once more, Rider closes the Reality Marble. Once again, he turns his sights to Caster.

“You will never defeat Gilles de Rais so easily,” he says shrilly. “We shall make meal of your bones, and blasphemous art of your lady!”

“Is that so?” Rider bares his teeth.

With one final, lightening-fast charge, Caster’s body _crunches_ under wheels and hooves. He’s mercifully silent as his mangled body turns to dust. _And not a single creature wept…_

Uryu lets out an anguished wail. “What’re you doing? Stop, _stop!_ ”

Rider turns to look at him, almost feeling sympathetic. “The loss of a comrade is a terrible thing,” he begins…only to halt. His eyes widen in shock.

Sola-Ui’s hands are glowing white, the way Einzbern’s did with Saber. Her palms are pressed against Uryu’s face. This time, instead of healing a wound, the light is _making_ one: Uryu’s face spasms, and Rider can see blood dripping from his eyes. The spear is in his belly. His hands are unrecognizable. A knife lies a short distance away.

“Big Guy, _where are you_? Make her stop…!”

“Would you have stopped for me, Uryu?” Sola-Ui asks, her voice barely above a whisper. She presses down. “ _Would you?_ ”

Uryu is beyond human speech.

The chill light brightens, and Rider has to shield his eyes with his arm. When the glare subsides, he slowly readjusts…and looks upon their would-be murderer’s corpse.

“…What did you _do_ to him, young lady?”

“I stopped him.” She stands, and for the first time Rider sees that her blouse is open and covered in blood from her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I healed myself already.”

“…Good.” Rider politely turns away so she can make herself presentable. He wants to ask if she enjoyed killing that boy, but he’s unsure of how to phrase it delicately.

“Are there…any survivors you can sense?” she asks, sounding slightly worried for once.

Rider closes his eyes and focuses; his heart sinks. “No. All I can sense is lingering terror.”

For a few moments, Rider mourns in silence. He hopes Sola-Ui does too.

She walks toward him, the _clack_ of her heels sounding hollow. “Do you have any injuries?”

“Hmm…thankfully, no. Well, the oxen probably do, but they’re hardy beasts!” Rider tries to sound cheerful.

She chuckles. “I should have suspected that from you, King of Conquerors. Your strength is remarkable, as is your army. Unfortunately, since I was busy with Uryu, I couldn’t get a good look at it. But the _sounds…_ ”

Rider turns to look at her, at her perfect posture and collected smile. _You can stop your idle flattery now,_ he wants to say, but what other power does a woman in her position have? _A woman caged by gigantic egos and the expectations of playing second-fiddle has few tools in her arsenal. And this particular tool she seems to use subconsciously…_

“Thank you,” he says, and notes how Sola-Ui’s body relaxes. “You have…an impressive strength too.”

“Mine isn’t important,” she says, and sounds like she means it. “I could never beat a Servant.”

“True…but you _did_ defeat not only a Master, but one with the ability to bend minds to his every whim.” He gently pats her shoulder. “You conquered his will—doesn’t that deserve praise?”

Sola-Ui’s cheeks flush pink, and she looks at him differently than before. It’s the surprised expression of someone who rarely gets acknowledged, and has no idea what to make of it.

“Well…thank you.” She sighs and looks down. “It wasn’t exactly an honorable battle…and I wasn’t thinking strategically. What kind of Mage am I?”

“A living one.” He smiles gently. “Look at me, Sola-Ui.”

She starts at her name, and obeys.

“Unfortunately, honorable battles are very rare—they always have been. When you’re in the midst of fighting for your life, you think of only one thing: _survival._ And in your case, in such tough odds, that you _did_ live is incredible. Your parents would be happier to have a living daughter than an honorable dead one.”

Her eyes are a little brighter than normal.

Rider’s thumb unconsciously touches her scar, hidden by her shirt. “If it puts you at ease, we can tell Kayneth it was an honorable duel, too.”

“Yes.” She collects herself and tends to the oxen.

The oxen low their thanks and lip her hair, much to Rider’s amusement. He laughs as Sola-Ui makes a face and tries to comb the saliva out.

“Say, Sola-Ui…how did you break free of the bracelet?”  

“Because of my high amount of Mage Circuits, I can usually avoid such enchantments. But this one…this was strange, _stronger_ than before. I’ve never seen something like that; it took me longer than usual to shake it. Once I knew what it was…well, it’s hard to explain, since it comes so naturally to me. You could say I ‘ignored’ it. I think it helped that Japanese isn’t my first language.”

He sees an opportunity. “Young lady, when you killed that boy…how did you feel?”

“I didn’t enjoy it, if that’s what you mean.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “…But I didn’t hate it, either. Feelings like that don’t come naturally to me.”

“…I see. How sad.”

“Don’t feel that way. It’s just who I am, that’s all. My parents don’t see it as a problem, so why should I?”

 _That_ is _a problem._ Rider shakes his head and sighs. _Damn Mages and their ‘parenting’…_

Sola-Ui walks over the corpse and gently removes the bracelet. She cradles it in her hands, running delicate fingers over the smooth curves. After a long moment, she pockets it. She strolls over looking very pleased with herself.

“Don’t bother using that on me,” Rider says half-jokingly.

“Oh, I don’t intend to.” Her demure laughter sends a shiver down his spine.

Before they leave, however, Sola-Ui takes out the bracelet again. She holds it up to the dim light, turning it this way and that. Rider doesn't disturb her. He senses she has something she wants to say, and waits for her to speak.

"Kayneth and that boy Uryu...they're cruel, aren't they?"

"I believe so, yes. Why do you ask?"

"If I were to use this...I'd be like them."

Rider wants to say _That depends on how you use it_ , but he guesses what and who she wants to use it on. "What freedom you would gain would be tarnished, I think."

"Mm...I think so too." That familiar strength in her eyes has returned. "When I dissolve this sham of a marriage...I won't need a cheap trick." 

With a flick of her wrist, she tosses the bracelet into the sewer.

She only looks back once.

\---

When they arrive back at the base, they find Kayneth pacing back-and-forth outside. As the Gordius Wheel lands, he rushes toward them, desperately trying to keep his composure.

“Sola-Ui, are you hurt?” He looks at her bloodstained shirt in horror. “Who did that to you?”

“Caster’s Master, before I killed him.” She rolls her shoulder proudly. “I’m fine.”

Kayneth runs a shaking hand through his hair. “You…you _killed_ a Master?”

“Indeed she did,” Rider says as he disembarks. “It was as honorable a fight as could be!”

She nods her thanks and tells Kayneth all about the battle—edited, of course, making Uryu a more durable foe and emphasizing his unwholesome traits.

As she talks, Rider notes with amusement that while Kayneth’s fascinated by her tale, he interrupts once or twice to ask about the bracelet or what the fear-monsters looked like. His eyes have the manic glow of a man finding a new discovery.

“I hate to disappoint you, Kayneth, but the bracelet was lost in the fight.”

Kayneth sighs and rubs his temples. “That may have been a higher form of Magic, Sola-Ui—who knows what the Mage Association would say about it? It could have been a historical find!” He shudders. “On the other hand…such things have a habit of bringing more disaster than they’re worth. They’re not meant for this modern world.”

“That’s true,” Sola-Ui says softly, her brows pinched. She regains her cool enthusiasm, and manages to spare a moment for Rider. “Kayneth, you should have _seen_ Rider’s army. It was amazing—hundreds of soldiers, all perfectly synchronized and able to crush the monsters in moments.”

Kayneth smirks. “That could be useful. Is that your Noble Phantasm, Rider?”

“Yes, the greatest treasure in my possession!” Rider’s only now aware of how weary he is. “…Unfortunately, the Ionian Hetairoi requires more mana than I would like. I need a recharge.”

“Sola-Ui can handle that.”

“Huh? But _you_ summoned me…”

“Kayneth _is_ a genius, for all his endless bragging,” Sola-Ui says, earning a disgruntled scowl from Kayneth. “He meddled with the Master-Servant system—instead of having to give you his mana while fighting in battle, that job goes to me. This way, he can concentrate on offence without worry.”

“…I see.” Rider smiles slyly at Kayneth. “Would this still have applied if I were a woman, I wonder?”

“Certainly not! As the Archibald family head, I can’t afford to waste my seed. As a King, I’m sure you understand—”

“—No, not really. Sex can and should be an enjoyable act, whether you’re a commoner or family head!”

“You can believe that all you like, but I have better things to do with my time than see your penis.”

Sola-Ui smothers her laughter behind her hand.

Rider tries not to chuckle. “Are you worried mine’s smaller?”

Kayneth snorts. “Everyone knows _larger_ is more important.”

“Truly? In my time it was the opposite.” _And even in this era, I suspect that my size would frighten instead of arouse…_

Kayneth awkwardly looks away. “Still, I don’t want to engage in some petty competition over that sort of thing!”

“Nobody said we were going to.” Rider sighs. “Unfortunately, we are going around in circles. We need to settle this soon—otherwise I’m going to be _extremely_ useless in any upcoming battles.”

Sola-Ui toys with her ribbon for a moment, then smiles. “I’ve got it!”

“Yes?” Rider and Kayneth ask.

Sola-Ui unties her ribbon, explaining as she does: “Kayneth, if you wear this as a blindfold, you won’t have to worry. After all, you didn’t see either Rider’s body or mine, so when our wedding night arrives…”

Kayneth blushes an amusing red and looks awkwardly to the side again. “That…that _could_ help.”

“I don’t wish to force you,” Rider says, taking pity on him. “It’s truly alright if you’re not interested.”

“Don’t treat me like a woman!”

Sola-Ui’s expression turns cold. She mutters something under her breath and storms away.

Kayneth watches her go, his hand partly outstretched. He lets it drop. “Look what you made me—”

“Apologize to your fiancée.”

Kayneth looks like he wants to object, to claim his ego over Sola-Ui…but then he looks at her retreating back again, clenches his fists, and strides after her.

“If I perform the Mana Transfer with you,” Kayneth calls over his shoulder, “You must show me your Noble Phantasm. Does that seem fair, King of Conquerors?”

“Yes,” Rider says, pleased that they’ve come to an agreement.

\---

Rider returns from washing his face to see Sola-Ui clad in his mantle. It appears she decided not to dress after her bath.

He leans against the doorframe and takes in her long legs, the way the soft fabric drapes across the curve of her hips, and the flush of pleasure that remains on her neck and chest. _It appears_ someone _would enjoy another round. Not that I’m averse to that…_

Kayneth is staring at the wall with the world’s stiffest posture. Understandable—seeing one’s fiancée like _that_ and unable to truly appreciate it would be a nightmare.

“How do I look, Rider?” Sola-Ui purrs.

“Beautiful, if a little enveloped.”

She presses the fur trim against her cheek and looks at him with half-lidded eyes. “I can see why you wear this so much, it’s _very_ comfortable.”

“Please put your clothes back on,” Kayneth says with a hint of desperation.

Sola-Ui chuckles low in her throat, a sound that brings to mind fingers clutching sheets. “No.”

Rider grins and strolls over to the bed. “You know, on second thought, something _is_ missing.”

“Oh? What is it?” Sola-Ui rolls onto her back and stretches sensuously.

He reaches out and rubs her scar with his fingers, chuckling at her surprise. “I couldn’t see your badge of war.”

Sola-Ui smiles nervously. “Don’t be ridiculous—plenty of Mage children have scars like this. It’s nothing special.”

“But it is.” He strokes it again. “Because this is _your_ scar.”

Kayneth snorts. “I see flattery comes easily to you.”

“Professor, these aren’t idle words. Your scars are equally stunning!”

Kayneth’s ears turn a darker pink. “…You showed me that earlier.” He clenches his fists. “Are you presentable _now_ , Sola-Ui?”

“Of course not.”

Rider grins and walks over to Kayneth. “ _I’m_ dressed, if that helps.”

He casually places himself between Kayneth and the bed—if he’s so determined not to see his fiancée naked before their bedding, who is Rider to judge? Sometimes, being 6’11’’ comes in handy.

Kayneth sighs with relief—it’d be offensive if it wasn’t so amusing. “I hope you enjoyed yourself, Rider, because this is the last Mana Transfer you’ll receive from us.”

Sola-Ui rolls her eyes and begins gathering up her clothes.

Rider inwardly flinches. “Did you feel forced?”

Kayneth shakes his head. “It was…satisfactory. The blindfold helped.”

 _Ouch._ “Good. Is it a matter of time constraints, then?”

“Yes—I plan on ending this tedious Grail War quickly, so that Sola-Ui and I can go home. Not with _you_ , of course. I have no need of a Familiar like you in my line of work.”

Rider understands that homesickness, but he still bristles at Kayneth’s casual dismissal. "I agree, parting ways would be for the best."

"Good. I hope that gives you incentive to fight alone!"

“Honestly, Kayneth,” Sola-Ui says in a tone of utter boredom. “I’m surprised you have time to be jealous when there’s a Grail War to win.”

Rider watches in detached fascination as Kayneth’s face turns colors previously thought impossible, before settling on harsh white.

Kayneth runs his fingers across his remaining Command Seals, a vile grin on his face.

“ _By my Co_ —”

Rider draws back his fist, dimly aware that he just broke a man of learning’s nose. _Would Ptolemy be offended, or would he approve? A question for later, I think._

He picks Kayneth up by the collar, still shaking with rage. “In all my years,” he growls, “I have _never_ encountered a man so obstinate, so determined to ignore reason! You think yourself a _Master_? You don’t even know how to admit when you’re wrong!”

“The Grail _chose me_ ,” Kayneth rasps, blood dribbling down his face and jacket.

“Then someone should fix it.”

A familiar alto calls from outside “I don’t doubt you are enjoying yourself, Rider, but _I_ for one am tired of waiting!”

Rider releases Kayneth; he lands on his knees with a _thud._ Sola-Ui looks between him and Kayneth uneasily. She hands back his mantle with trembling fingers. Rider suspects that this is the end of a great many partnerships.

“You deal with Saber,” she says, not daring to look Rider in the eye. “I’ll deal with him.”  

Rider doesn’t hesitate.

\---

Rider materializes a short ways from Saber, who’s looking dashing in her black suit.

Saber looks at him in shock. “There’s blood on your hand…what happened here?”

“Forgive me—there was a disagreement after Mana Transfer.” He dons his mantle. “But never mind that. I’m at full-strength, and just in time to see you. This must be my lucky night!”

“Perhaps it is,” Saber says, her expression softening. “I’m glad to see you are well.”

“As am I.” _Assuming I don’t get another vile command._ Rider rests his hand on the pommel of his sword. “I see you decided to not avoid me.” He laughs. “I must say I’m glad!”

“Good.” She looks troubled for a moment. “…I decided that treating you like some sort of leper would be…unkind.”

 _I suspect there’s another intention hidden in those words._ “I agree. Are you here for a rematch?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Saber disembarks from the black vehicle at her side. ( _A motorcycle_ , Rider realizes.) “Having just had an honorable bout with Lancer, I wish to battle you again— _without_ interruptions this time.”

Rider grins—he suspects Saber’s going “off-script” from her Master’s wishes. _It’s that kind of night._ “I was hoping you would say that. Shall we fight with weapons, or our wits?”

Saber smiles back. “We have to choose one or the other? Why not both?”

“A good answer,” Rider says, ready to unsheathe his sword.

“You are ignoring me, Saber,” says a new voice, a proud smooth baritone. “That is _most_ unbecoming.”

Rider follows Saber’s gaze and spies a man clad in gold armor standing on a streetlamp. The night breeze ruffles his spiked-up blond hair. His oxblood eyes look down on them with the idle curiosity of a king.

“Archer,” Saber says, her tone neither pleased or annoyed. She dons her armor in a flash.

“Good evening, Archer!” Rider says, waving cheerfully. “Are you here to fight, too?”

“Perhaps.” Archer cocks his head to one side. “I could have sworn you planned to _race_ , Saber. That would be a worthy challenge for both of your Riding skills. What changed your mind?”

“The stars,” Saber replies cryptically. “Or perhaps the scent of the air.”

Rider frowns and sniffs. He catches the faint odors of ash and tobacco, overwhelmed by the tang of brine. “It does feel invigorating! I have no qualms fighting in whatever the weather. What of you, Archer? Are you going to be a mere spectator, or join the fray?”

“If I find you entertaining.” Archer chuckles. “ _That_ will be unlikely.”

“Oh. How disappointing.” Rider sighs and unsheathes his sword. “We’ll give you a good show, then!”

Saber echoes him—and much to Rider’s surprise he’s met not with wind, but vibrant gold light in the form of a blade. _Excalibur. She has revealed her Noble Phantasm to me…but why?_

When their blades _clash_ , Rider can feel the raw power flowing through Excalibur. They parry, strike, parry again. Saber’s graceful steps make his look lumbering. _Though Roxana’s dancing easily matches her._ They pass through Archer’s shadow; Rider hears him let out a bored sigh.

When their blades cross in a flurry of sparks, Rider asks under his breath “Why are you _really_ here, Saber? We both know you’re not the lying type.”

Saber’s gaze softens for a moment. “I’m merely a distraction,” she says disgustedly.

“I figured.” Rider remembers the ash-smell. “I take it your Master has a powerful ally?”

“Yes.”

“ _Damn._ ”

Saber presses forward, tries to knock him off his feet. She almost succeeds. He can hear someone screaming. What follows is the _crack_ of a gunshot, then another. _I’m sure they are safe, I’m_ sure _—_

He bumps against a concrete wall and has an idea. He braces his arms against it.

Saber draws back Excalibur, thrusts—

—And Rider lunges forward, passing Saber as she pierces the concrete. _Ha!_ Now _try to free your blade._

He turns on his heel to gloat. He finds himself faced not with an outwitted adversary, but Excalibur sliding out of the wall like a knife through cheese.

“…Oh. _Well_ , then.”

Saber shakes off the gray dust and smiles. “That might have worked on any other blade. But Excalibur is… _special_ in many ways.”

Rider winces. _Making my head-butt a miracle._ “Have you been going easy on me all this time?”

“Not at all. Your Luck is simply ridiculous.”

“Thank you."

Rider feels that familiar straining sensation again, the unyielding force of a Command Seal. It feels like a boot on his chest, pressing him down.  _Use your Noble Phantasm._

The sheer _redundancy_ of it makes him want to scream. He manages a light tone, befitting a contest of strength between Kings.

"Unfortunately, this isn’t getting us anywhere. Since you have your Noble Phantasm out in the open, I’ll unleash mine too. What do you say?”

“I was hoping for that. Come at me with all your strength, King of Conquerors!”

“Yes,” says Archer from above, “let us move past this tedious flailing toward something _interesting._ ”

“Very well!” Rider closes his eyes, focuses, and summons the Ionian Hetairoi.

For the second time today, he stands in that familiar desert of memories, with his army at his back. Bucephelus stands beside him, waiting patiently for him to climb on. After he climbs into the saddle, Rider strokes his smooth black neck before taking the reins.

“Are you ready?” he asks, and laughs as Bucephelus whickers in response. “Clearly I needn’t ask!”

“Who are these mongrels?” Archer’s still on his lamppost; it’s an odd juxtaposition. “Your paid army?”

Rider figures Saber needs to hear this, too, so he ensures his voice carries. “While I do pay them, they are here for more than mere coins. These are my dearest friends, my greatest treasure! They have passed through death itself to return to my side; they have shared my dream of conquest through triumphs and trials alike! With them at my side, I shall never fail. Behold my strongest Noble Phantasm: _Ionian Hetairoi!_ ”

Spears _clang_ jubilantly against shields; his friends cry out their gratitude. His heart loses some of its weight at the sound. _Yes…this is how it should be!_

He hears someone walk toward him; he looks down and sees Hephaestion, a delighted smile lighting up his tanned face.

“I didn’t expect you would summon us again so soon, old friend. Is the War nearly over?”

“It may well be. I can’t be certain yet.” Rider grins. “But that’s part of the fun, right?”

Hephaestion’s warm, loud laugh makes his spirits soar. “Of course! I— _we_ —stand beside you, as always.” He holds out his arm. “Glory lies—”

“—Beyond the horizon!” Rider clasps their forearms together for a moment, before letting Hephaestion return to the ranks. _…What a nostalgic feeling. I wonder if Saber knows of it?_

Archer calls out to him “Uniting an army of this size with your dream and love alone… _that_ is worthy of my interest.”

“Thank you. Do you wish to ally with us?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Rider sighs.

Even from this distance, Saber looks antsy. Rider brings himself back to the battle at hand.

He holds his sword aloft and cries out: “Friends, tonight we face down the King of Knights herself!” He lowers his arm, points his blade toward the small figure in the distance. “ _There_ is our foe—or, perhaps, a new friend. Regardless, we shall give her a worthy battle, shall we not?”

“ _Aiaiaiaiai!_ ” roars his army.

Rider’s voice joins them as he urges Bucephelus forward. The dunes’ sand churns around them as they charge. The sun’s heat weighs down on Rider’s neck. His thigh muscles are already straining as his trusty mount moves like silk beneath him.

For the first time in awhile, he is truly happy.

Ahead of him, he sees Saber raising Excalibur above her head. Soon glowing orbs of light that rival the sun appear, floating like fireflies toward the golden blade. As Rider watches in awe, he notes that Excalibur’s growing stronger, _bigger_ …and there’s nothing in its way.

“ _Men, prepare for impact!_ ” He hopes they listen.

Saber braces herself, knees bent and legs splayed. Her blue battle-gown swirls about her, a burst of pure color in a barren land.

There’s something sad about how practiced her movements are. _No one should be so experienced at killing at her age._ He shakes off the sadness and orders the archers to draw and loose—it’s a futile effort, but his friends aren’t going to go down _gawking._

Arrows rain down upon Saber. She dodges some, but others manage to pierce her shoulders and legs. Instead of a cry of pain, Rider hears “EX—”

Rider focuses on Saber’s face, the set of her jaw and the regret in her eyes. _So this_ was _a mercy-killing after all._   _Well, there are worse ways to die. At least this time I wasn’t wasting away in bed!_

She brings her arms down.

“— _CALIBUR_!”

A beam of golden light _roars_ from Excalibur. His eyes water at the sight—not just from the searing brightness, but the _feeling_ that light emits. He’s overwhelmed with indescribable emotions, and the only one that makes sense is calm. It seeps into his heart like the finest of wines; it doesn’t feel forced at all. He feels like he’s floating—above his body, even above his Reality Marble.

Despite the all-consuming calmness, he wonders: _Are the Professor and young lady all right? I had no chance to help them…_

He lets himself pretend they’re safe. Who knows—perhaps they are. It’s out of his hands, now, and the Grail is calling…

\---

Iskandar’s eyes flicker open. _It appears my part in the Holy Grail War is done._ He blinks slowly and stretches, enjoying the feeling of linen sheets against his skin. He reaches for Roxanna, only to find she’s fast asleep. _Best not to wake her._

He strokes her black curls, smiling as she murmurs his name in her sleep.

He carefully eases out of bed and pads over to the welcoming fireplace, where a large book of records sits ready to be opened once again. The red leather binding shines as brightly as it did the first time he laid eyes on it so long ago. _It’s a little disappointing really—books that show their age are the most interesting. Ah well…_ He pours himself a cup of wine and lies among the plumped red cushions, the book opening with a soft _crack._

Iskandar reads over his (quite pitiful) exploits in the 4th Holy Grail War, detachedly amused at the antics of his Master and his fiancée. (He’s surprised he didn’t kill Kayneth himself—though he _did_ hit the fool, so that’s something.) He’s pleased to see that he and his Master’s fiancée managed to kill two child-thieves, at least. ( _And_ that he potentially has two new recruits—always a good thing.)

He reaches the last page and tries not to think of his comrades in arms slain by one foe. _Then again, according to this we faced the King of Knights, one of the greatest of Heroes…is that not something to be proud of?_ He hopes he’ll have the chance to duel her again—preferably in less harrowing times.

Iskandar sees no mention of his Master’s final moments, which is unsurprising. _I shall fill in the blanks with something entertaining. This Kayneth guy would probably find that offensive—all the more reason to do so!_ He chuckles to himself at the thought.

He looks back at the final page and sees that new sentences are being constructed. As the letters form, his smile grows, and the fire grows warmer.

_After the Grail War, the Lancer-class Heroic Spirit, Diarmuid Ua Duibne, learned of Iskandar’s offer and decided to take it._

Knuckles _knock_ against the oak door. “King Iskandar,” says a man’s muffled voice, “there is a handsome spearman to see you. I don’t know how he got into your Desert, but here he is. He appears to be a Heroic Spirit of the Celts. Do you know him?”

“Oh, yes. Tell him to wait in the solar, and that I’ll be there shortly!” He stands and stretches.

“Yes, my King.” The man departs.

Roxanna stirs. “What is it, my love?” she asks, covering her yawn with her hand.

Iskandar walks over to the bed. “A new friend. I’ll introduce you shortly—unless you want to sleep a little more?”

Roxanna burrows deeper into the covers and sighs contentedly. “A little more rest, I think. I suspect you and this new friend have much to talk about.”

“Ha! Oh, yes—particularly in regards to a pesky curse of his. It’s the sort that makes women fall for him as soon as they see him. Do you have any suggestions?”

Roxanna smiles. “Court him yourself. Who would argue with a King?”

It takes a moment for the idea to sink in. Then Iskandar throws back his head and laughs in delight, with Roxanna following suit. The bedroom seems to soak in the sound. After their laughter subsides, Iskandar presses his lips to hers, enjoying the familiar warmth and sparks of affectionate pleasure.

“I’ll suggest your idea,” he says softly. “Who knows, he may agree to it!”

“You cannot know for sure until you see him—so go, before he thinks you’re ignoring him!” She jokingly makes a shooing motion.

“Very well, I’ll reluctantly leave your side.” Iskandar bows and heads for the door.

As he turns the ivory handle, he feels a twinge of sadness that he couldn’t spend more time in the modern world. There’re so many curiosities he _knows_ he must have missed, some little thing Roxana or Calanus or Thais or Hephaestion would have been enraptured by. _And all because I happened to have an incompatible Master…_

He quickly shakes the sadness off, as he always does. He opens the door and strides out into the sunlit, sandstone halls, his feet feeling lighter as he goes to greet his new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm going to take a little break between Swapping Fates installments, just to avoid burnout. Thanks also for your patience!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and feedback are appreciated--even if it takes me awhile, I will reply! (I think I reread them too much, to make sure I don't miss anything... ^^;)


End file.
